Broken Shards of Sun
by annaisadinosaur
Summary: You see, here was the thing about Gideon Prewett. He was not a very decent person - actually, probably less than half of a decent person - and he could have written a novel about all the things he'd failed at being. A brother, an uncle, a boyfriend, a soldier, a human being, maybe even. But, here's what you have to know about him. He was terrible, lousy, lazy, but he loved Fabian.


Staying in bed until twelve had been a bad idea. But, when Gideon turned over onto his stomach, he decided, upon the stabbing pain in his head, that moving was an even worse idea. In his haggardly stumbling to his bed the night before, he'd managed to leave both the light on and the window open. This had also been a bad decision (or a bad lack of decision), as it was the beginning of February, and the last snow of the season was still coating the ground. He was going to be very ill, wasn't he? Gideon rolled over again, cursed himself for it, and fell asleep.

He woke up at one-twenty, and thought about the window again. He'd had dreams about being rolled into a giant Gideon-sized snowman by Fabian, but now fully conscious, he began to associate the dream with the frostbite forming in his hands. He felt a little better, mind more clear, all that loveliness, so he stumbled out of his covers… where was his wand? He slammed the window shut.

Whatever. That was Gideon's mantra the past few months. I don't care. Go away. I just want to… sleep. Sometimes that last word changed to something more solemn, but he wasn't thinking that now. His bones just felt hollow, and he ached from the core, maybe because he'd drunk the world black before he'd remembered to eat nearly every day this week. He sunk to the floor. Molly was going to be sodding pissed.

But wasn't she _always _these days? Regardless of him and his lack of family commitment, Molly was always ranting and raving. Poor Arthur, he thought. But then again, they _were_ having their third child, so he couldn't mind her company too much. That thought sobered him up pretty quick.

It took him about thirty-five minutes to shower. He reminded himself a few times that he was meant to be at Molly's at one, but he acknowledged the fact that the time had already come and gone, so it surely didn't make any difference how _much_ he was late, just that he was late at all. He also acknowledged the fact that this was one of the contributing reasons to his "family issues," but disregarded that as well. He bitterly searched the house, hair dripping puddles all over the wooden floors, for something half decent to wear. He was less than half of a decent person, anyway, so half decent attire was more than appropriate.

Really, he'd lost his wand. He knew the summoning spell and completely sober he was certain he could have done it without uttering a word, but right then and there, he was too groggy to even remember the incantation. He wrung his trousers out from under a tall pile of mismatched clothing. Molly had a nice bureau at her house. Gideon needed to get one like that. Maybe he could ask her how much she'd want for it. Hypothetically. He'd asked her hypothetically. Last time he'd asked something like that, she'd yelled. Molly wasn't nice like her nice bureau.

At about half past two, Gideon realized he hadn't gotten Billy a birthday present. Gideon was Billy's favorite uncle for some reason absolutely beyond even Gideon, and so Molly was always getting onto his case about at least pretending to be a thoughtful, kind, normal person. He thought that was a lot of parameters for him to have to fill, especially if he was only _pretending._ Billy was wicked and all, sure, but Gideon didn't like kids. He'd wondered before if he really didn't, you know, like kids, when he'd been with Sheila, but all he could remember now was them fighting about it. And that, well… simply put, there was a bottle of whiskey under his pillow, and it was just a little _too _obvious for him how that'd turned out.

Speaking of, he thought, and wandered to his bedside. He unscrewed the cap of the bottle and held it to his lips. Going to family parties sober was never any fun; honestly, though, it was still hardly any fun when he was drunk. _Actually_, he thought, being drunk was hardly any fun at all. He always seemed to break things or leave things on or misplace things. And sometimes those things would be people, or relationships, like his and Molly's, or his and Sheila's, or his and… Fabian's. Fabian was going to be at Molly's today. He'd forgotten until now, and suddenly felt like he'd had a bag of bricks tossed in his face.

He set down the bottle, lips dry.

Was he really planning on going? He consulted the clock. It was getting closer and closer to three o'clock, and in about thirty more minutes, he'd likely get the Patronus from Arthur on his doorstep, ushering him to get his hungover arse out of bed before Molly wrote out his death sentence. Gideon appreciated Arthur for the little things he did. They were mates; or, they would have been mates, if Gideon ever reciprocated the effort. He was rather lazy, but that wasn't really the reason he didn't ever speak to anyone. He felt something like that taste of stale and bitter alcohol in his mouth.

But then he reminded himself of Fabian. Because honestly, he didn't care about Molly or Arthur or Billy, or Charlie, or their new baby that Molly had sworn up and down was going to be the first girl. He wanted to say there were few people he cared very much about at all, but the thing was, there wasn't one person save maybe Fabian that he could even summon an ounce of affection for.

Not anymore, anyway. Not after everything. Not after Hogwarts, not after the beginning of the war, not after the way he'd wanted to kick and scream and fight against _fighting—_not after he'd had his life ripped away from him when he was eighteen and couldn't fend for himself. Not after Dad's death, not after he'd run away with Sheila, and not after she'd left him.

He hadn't spoken to Fabian in two years. Two years. He'd graced some sort of correspondence with his other siblings, and his mother, and his great aunts and everyone that'd ever bothered with him, but the line between Fabian and Gideon had been silent. Two years. He rolled that over his tongue and couldn't quite comprehend it. Some moments it felt like it'd been an eternity of silence. That's what he'd always said he wanted, peace and quiet, but now… well. Did anyone really ever want to be left alone forever?

Gideon went to the front of his flat and wrestled his coat off the hook. He nearly strangled himself to get it on and get himself out the door at the same time, but he managed it, and both feet landed in the soft snow. Walking would clear his head. Also, he couldn't find his wand. But clearing his head was a good excuse. He was either drunk or hungover, and he couldn't really figure it out, because his head felt like it'd been smashed in. So. Time. And cold. That'd be good for him. Eh?

He didn't know what time it was when he got to Molly's. She didn't live too far from him. Good thing they hadn't moved out of the city yet. Then his wand-misplacing madness would not be forgiven. But then again, he wondered how often he really ever was forgiven.

Ah, well.

He landed three little knocks on the door. It burst open almost immediately, and a bright-faced Bill Weasley stood behind it.

"Uncle Gideon!"

Billy's skinny preteen arms constricted around his knees and Gideon laughed a little. "Hey, kid." He pat him on the head. "Didn't wait up, did you?"

"Only for a while," Billy said, and then quickly, "but not long. Mum told me not to. Don't tell her."

"How mad is she?" ventured Gideon. "On a scale of one to ten?"

"Fifty million hundred, probably," said Billy, looking unfazed. "She was mad and then she burnt the bread for dinner."

"Oh," said Gideon. "Not good, eh?"

"Nope. So, did you get me a birthday present? You don't have one. Mum told me to make sure you did. I dunno why. It's all right. I know you don't really like shopping all that much, I told Mum so, but she said something about last minute…"

"Hold on there. I've got something." He didn't, actually, and was just feeling through his coat pocket in hopes that maybe he still had a mint in there from dinner a few nights ago. He pulled out his wand instead and held it up, confused, in front of Billy's face. Well, there was the answer to that riddle.

"You got me a _wand_?"

Gideon blinked. "Oh. Er." He considered this for a moment, and wondered how bad this exchange really might be. After another moment, he tossed it at him. "Sure. I guess. Happy birthday." He was probably going to regret this. All right, not probably. Most assuredly.

"_Are you serious_? Are you really, really being honest? This is the best birthday present ever! Oh Merlin's baggiest Y-fronts I can't _believe_ it—!"

"Billy!" called a voice from the other room. "How many times have I told you not to use that phrase?"

"MUM!" he called back. "MUM, UNCLE GID GOT ME A WAND!"

Well, that'd happened sooner than he expected. Not even a moment to escape to the liqu+or cabinet. Molly was at the front door in a flash, hands on her hips. She'd gotten bigger since he'd seen her last. She could have only been a few months along, but she looked the size of a whale. He considered telling her this, but then figured she must already know.

"Hey, Mol," drawled Gideon with a bit of a grin. He knew she was going to murder him slowly. He decided to tell her anyway. "You look like you've consumed an entire town."

"You don't talk to me," she said, pointing her finger at him, and stomped over to Billy. "Give me that. That's not yours. That's Uncle Gideon's wand, and I told you he'd be too cheap to bring you something proper, didn't I?"

"Mum, he still gave it to me," said Billy.

"I did," agreed Gideon.

She crossed her arms. "All right, then, Gideon dear. Still." She held out her hand to Billy. "Give me that."

"Can I have it back later?"

"If you behave."

He handed it over.

"Go to the kitchen then. I need to speak to your uncle."

Billy said a brief goodbye and scurried off. Molly, contrary to his unfortunate hopes, did not. "Fabian's in the kitchen," she announced to him.

"Is he?"

"You should say hello. He's been asking if you'd come."

Gideon nodded, throat thick. "I'm gonna go have a smoke in the back first. That all right?"

"Sure. Just… before you dart off…"

"I know."

He was a little disappointed that he had to acknowledge his plan of escape aloud. But then he excused himself to the back patio a moment later and lit a cigarette. The smoke clouding his face paled into the white of the snow, and he thought about what he would say to Fabian when he saw him. He'd tried not to think about Fabian for a while, and it felt almost as if he was now confronting a nightmare. He sighed deeply, and his lungs overflowed with smoke. He coughed on it and scrunched up his eyes. His chest was on fire, and not really because of the smoke.

The door sounded behind him. "You all right there, brother?"

It was a gentle sound, and Gideon thought he might have almost imagined it. He turned without thinking and saw himself. Only different. The red hair didn't spill quite as much over his crown, and his waistband looked a little thicker. (Probably because he remembered to eat. Unlike Gideon.) His mouth fell just a centimeter. Silence. He hadn't thought of what to say yet. He'd come too early. This wasn't going the way he'd wanted it to. Not that he'd…

"Hey," he said before he could over think it.

Fabian nodded in acknowledgement of this greeting. "Been awhile."

"Hadn't noticed, really."

"Hm." He walked over, flicked the cigarette in his brother's hand. "Shoulda given that up already."

"I had. Actually." The thought made him stub it out on the wooden railing, and the snow was covered in burning grey ash.

"Right. Sheila didn't like it."

"Nope." He blew out the last huff of breath, and watched it climb over itself into the air. "She's gone now. Walked out in the middle of the night. Didn't say a word to me. Dunno where she is."

"When?"

"October, probably. Months ago." He glanced sideways at Fabian. "You?"

"Me?" Fabian laughed. "Me what?"

"I don't know. Say something. I don't want to think about myself."

"Oh. Well." Fabian crossed his arms, glanced out at the border of trees lining the horizon. "I'm married."

Gideon stared. And blinked. "You're married?"

"Yep."

"Are you fucking with me right now?"

Fabian laughed again. "No, actually. She's inside. Her name's Beth."

"When did this happen? Last night?"

"Year, actually," he said slowly. "Last year. April. You're the eloper in the family, not me." He tried to pass that off as a joke, but the smile didn't meet his eyes.

"And… no one thought to tell me. Well." He clenched his jaw. "It's lovely being the last one to know something, eh?" He felt strangely… jipped. Was that the right word? His pulse was beating loudly through his head.

"I'm sorry, Gid. I am. It's just. I didn't feel right, what with the way things have been. And I figured, situation reversed, you would have done the same thing. I mean, you did the first time."

"Yeah." He nodded. "No, I get it."

They stood there for a bit, processing their situations. They were such opposites, weren't they? It'd never been more obvious until then. They had the same genetic material and yet they weren't close to the same person at all.

"Drink?" said Fabian, spontaneously. It was good timing; Gideon felt as if his head was going to burst.

"Nah."

"Don't drink anymore?"

"I won't. Not today." He glanced inside. "It's Billy's birthday. You know."

"Good choice." Fabian fidgeted, wiping the snow from his hair absentmindedly. "Look, I just want to say something," he started quickly, "because I've had a lot of time to really think about the ways I fucked us up. Just—just know that I don't blame you for anything with Dad."

Gideon froze.

"You didn't kill him," he said. "We were young, and we had no business fighting everyone else's battles. Death Eaters killed him. You… I… I know you tried your hardest to save him."

He stared at his brother, so bewildered, and before he could think of anything else to say, or over think anything else to say, he moved himself forward and embraced his brother.


End file.
